


Inextinguishable

by AyyanaJay



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Ashegrid, Battle, F/M, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Partnership, Post-Blue Lions Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), S-Support (Fire Emblem)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:42:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26682397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AyyanaJay/pseuds/AyyanaJay
Summary: Fulfilling their dreams of becoming Knights, Ashe and Ingrid serve the new King Dimitri with unparalleled courage and devotion. When news of at attack from inside Galatea territory arrives in the Capital, the two Knights set out to secure the small town of Acis. Something sinister is lurking in the shadows of the border, however, and what should have been a routine mission turns into a desperate fight for survival. Faced with the threat of losing someone precious to her to again, Ingrid is forced to confront her values on sacrifice and justice, and realize just how important Ashe is to her.A four part tale of sacrifice, courage, hope, and devotion.
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Ingrid Brandl Galatea
Comments: 8
Kudos: 21





	1. Sacrifice: The Ambush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally fulfilling their dream of becoming Knights, Ashe and Ingrid serve as paragons of justice protecting the newly unified Kingdom after the War. When whispers of a dangerous bandit encampment right in Ingrid's home territory reach the Capital, the two Knights set out to protect the small town of Acis. But something dark is lurking in the shadows along the Kingdom border, and what should be little more than a routine mission turns into a desperate fight for survival. 
> 
> Chapter One of a four part series.

Pursuing bands of Imperial insurgents out of the Faerghus border had become a familiar routine for Ashe and Ingrid ever since the Adrestian Empire had been overthrown several months ago. After Dimitri’s coronation, he had eagerly Knighted the pair for their loyalty and dedication and tasked them with protecting the territories suffering under the worst insurrection.

  
It was in Ingrid’s home territory that news arrived one day of a growing enemy encampment. A merchant had complained of being harassed as he travelled along the Southeastern Kingdom and Alliance border through Acis, a quiet, unassuming little town tucked away at the edge of the Galatea-Daphnel mountain range. Home to only a few dozen townspeople and the vast plains of scrub grass that stretched to either side of the rocky hills, the town was hardly notable even on a map. Thus it was quite a surprise to receive any news from it, much less news of enemy movements.

  
Despite the town’s lack of resources or capital interest, Dimitri hadn’t hesitated in dispatching a small battalion of Knights to secure the borders. It was a few days' journey from the Capital, and they set out at once.

  
Ingrid took point position with her Falcon Knights while Ashe and his mounted unit provided ground support. There was little to see upon their first arrival in the valley except for the dusty rolling plains, the small town to the left, and the jagged ridges of the mountains in the distance.

  
The scrub grasses of the plains soon gave way to barren rocks and dry, compacted earth that crunched beneath the horse’s hooves. The uneven terrain made it difficult for the horses to keep pace, putting them behind the Falcon Knight battalion, but they pushed forward. While the bandit camp was well disguised from the ground, Ingrid spotted it tucked away in a wide crevice in the distant cliffside. As she and her Knights approached on a cautious descent, a lookout saw them and raised the alarm.

  
Peaceful talks were out, as usual, it seemed. Ashe quickly surveyed the area. A few scattered cots and low tents lay in the shadows of the cliffs as well as makeshift armament racks. A tattered Imperial banner had been staked off to the side and now fluttered raggedly in the breeze. Judging by the blackened circles of ash left behind from nightly fires, it looked like they had been here for a few weeks.

  
As Ashe spurred his horse forward he heard Ingrid’s clear battle cry ring out, and her knights angled into a swooping descent. Some of the men that frantically took up arms were dressed in simple furs and hard leathers, clearly nothing more than hired mercenaries, while several were outfitted in battle-worn Imperial uniforms. The reclaimed swords and lances they brandished were of little use, however, against the crafted silver lances and javelins Ingrid’s Knights wielded with deft skill.

  
Ashe gave the signal for his unit to join the skirmish, but he hung back with bow at the ready, eyes following his partner’s movements. Ingrid needed little backup when it came to standard footsoldiers. He was well versed in her hit-and-run tactics that had earned her a growing reputation for battlefield mastery. Her Falcon Knights tag teamed in their descent, one swooping low to deliver destabilizing blows that knocked the enemy off guard, while another darted in from behind with a swift (and often lethal) strike. It was like watching a flock of shrikes effortlessly impale their prey.

  
The efficient deadliness of this formation had only two weaknesses: overwhelming enemy numbers and snipers. There was little concern of being outnumbered in this situation, since they had the surprise advantage and had flanked the camp perimeter. Instead, Ashe kept his eye trained and his arrow notched for signs of any archers.

  
The sharp, grating sounds of metal clashing on metal mixed with grunts and yells and echoed off the rocks in an unpleasant cacophony of battle. The combined force of both of their mounted battalions was easily overpowering the bandits. Observing no signs of any bows either in the camp or actively being used, Ashe turned his attention to covering Ingrid. She was the only one who fought without a Pegasus tag team partner. Most enemies fell easily beneath the devastating blows from Luin, her Heroes’ Relic, and for those that didn’t, she had come to trust Ashe to flank her blindspots.

  
Ashe had likewise attuned his aim to Ingrid’s body language. Which enemy her eyes flicked over to target, the posture of her back in the saddle as she leaned ever so slightly to adjust course, the angle of her arm as she drew back her lance. Wordless signals that communicated her intent and course of action.

  
As dust kicked up from the trample of feet and hooves, the air grew hazy and thick. But something was off, Ashe noted. There was no way this much dust would cloud the air from their skirmish alone.

  
Something flashed in his peripheral vision, and Ashe pivoted in his saddle to catch a glimpse of glowing red eyes leering out from within the fast-approaching smog. A whirling windstorm of loose dirt and pebbles swept over the battlefield, stinging his eyes and making him wince and duck his head down for cover. Blinking away the tears, he tried to ignore the pain and get a sight back on the specter, but the silhouette of the red-eyed, raven-beaked mask faded as suddenly as Ashe had glimpsed it. The intensity of the vortex passed and left an almost impenetrable smokescreen of dust in its wake.

  
Ashe’s horse snorted and nickered, echoing the sense of unsettling apprehension he felt. He steadied his mount, keeping his eyes focused on the spot the enemy mage had vanished from. Faint movement from behind the cloud pricked his attention, and it was followed by a dull, rhythmic thundering that made the ground vibrate.

  
_Ambush,_ he realized. Panic constricted his chest and his heart seized.

  
From within the dust emerged a tight formation of mounted soldiers in black armor, faces concealed behind veiled helmets. They took aim in chilling unison.

  
_No…_

  
Ashe raised and fired his own bow but his shot was too slow to disrupt their volley. Arrows arced above him and rained down on the unexpecting Falcon Knights. The pained shrieks and guttural screams of humans and mounts alike filled the valley. Ingrid whipped around, shock and panic in her eyes as the dark-armored archers prepped for another volley.

  
Kicking his heels into his steed, Ashe charged toward the reinforcements. He had enough time for one kill shot. Inhaling deeply, he took a steadying breath to focus his aim.

  
If there’s one thing he could count on, it’s that he never missed.

  
He fired. The horseman on the left snapped back, dark blood blooming on the veil over its face as his arrow struck true. Its bow clattered onto the ground as its head lolled and it slid off the saddle with a heavy thud.

  
One less arrow in the enemy volley.

  
The other horsemen ignored Ashe’s oncoming charge and fired their second hail of arrows. They struck bandit and Kingdom Knight alike as the wounded combatants from both sides scrambled to flee from the merciless barrage. The dying screams of a Pegusus ran out but Ashe couldn’t focus on that.

  
Deep breath to stabilize the beating of his heart.

  
Steady, straight arms to brace his aim.

  
Unwavering focus to sight down the kill.

  
The battle faded away as his senses heightened. His head filled with the sound of his own pulse and the pounding rhythm of hooves carrying him closer to his targets. The scent of stale dirt and the tang of sweat from his horse assailed his sinuses. Adrenaline coursed like electricity through his veins, sharpening his vision like a bird of prey.

  
He fired, and the mounted archer nearest its fallen brethren jerked back, arrow protruding from its temple. Riding the seamless motion he notched and fired again, and the next archer, now turning to face him, took the full blow between its eyes, ragdolling back from the impact, a spurt of blood marking its fall.

  
_Four left._

  
The bowmen had now turned their attention to Ashe, having lost half their comrades in the span of a few heartbeats. The near mechanical unison in which they moved was unnerving. Dodging all four was probably not going to be possible, and if he swerved he’d lose the last guaranteed killshot…

  
A pulse of hesitation, and then he steeled himself and loosed his arrow. It sailed straight ahead as four simultaneous arrows flew towards him. He held his course long enough to confirm his aim was true, then tugged hard on the reins in a last ditch effort to minimize the impact of the imminent volley. His horse neighed and snorted in protest at the violent course change. An arrow sang by on his right, thankfully missing its mark, but the other three struck hard.

  
The piercing impact hit his chest and shoulder, knocking the breath from his lungs. The third stuck deep into his steed’s shoulder, and the creature reared and bucked in wild panic. Unable to keep hold of the reins in his disoriented state, his stomach dropped as he was thrown from the saddle. His vision went blank as he hit the ground with a bone-jarring slam that rattled through his teeth and spine.

  
For a long and excruciating moment his senses didn’t register anything except the dizzying pain radiating through his bones. He tried to push himself up, but the exertion drove the protruding arrow in his chest deeper, and he coughed violently, blood trickling down his lips. The second arrow had pinned his shoulder through the thick leather pauldron, piercing deep into muscle.

  
Suffocating waves of agony flooded through him as his crushed lungs refused to inhale enough breath. The sickening mineral taste of blood and dirt coated his tongue, and his wounds burned like fire from the pits of Ailell. Gasping hard, he struggled to lift his head and focus on something, anything. Though his vision flickered in and out, he couldn’t give up now. Not like this, when his friends were still in danger.

  
Gruesome as it was, the most noticeable thing he could focus on were the arrows sticking out of him, right in his field of vision. Sleek and black as night, the painfully heavy shafts didn’t end in feather fletchings, but in streamlined little sails. They were wicked and alien looking, and recognition slowly dawned on him.

  
_Slitherers._

  
No wonder the ambushers struck with such inhuman precision.

  
Grinding his teeth, he fought through the pain to try and reach for his bow which had been flung out of his grasp. He dug his fingernails into the dirt and dragged himself inch by inch, blood oozing from his wounds with every pull. The ground vibrated louder and louder as the remaining horsemen’s hooves closed the distance, and he knew they were aiming for the killshot. His breath came in heavy pants as the crushing weight in his chest restricted his lungs, and his vision blurred at the edges. He stretched out his fingers until the pain was overwhelming.

  
He wasn’t going to reach the bow in time…

  
He felt the dust stirring and pebbles skittering beside him as the first archer was just yards away.

  
Even though his thoughts were leaden and disconnected, he knew they could have taken the shot by now. Why hadn’t they---

  
The hollow sound of an impact split the air. Hooves thundered past him, close enough for him to smell the animal’s sweat and froth and for the ensuing dust to spray in his face. The horse kept galloping, and Ashe managed to prop himself up enough to see the rider’s arms limp and lolling at its side, the glowing crest stone of Luin gleaming like a red eye sunk spear tip deep into the rider’s back.

  
Ingrid’s cry rang out clear from above. Through the haze in his vision he saw her emerge from the cover of dust like an avenging goddess. Light rays filtered through like a halo around her silhouette, gleaming off her silver armor framed by outstretched Pegasus wings.

  
Her appearance was enough to startle the remaining two archers off course. They passed dangerously close by Ashe on either side, hooves shaking the ground beneath him. Ingrid drew the sword belted to her side and crouched flush against her Pegasus. The bowmen took hurried aim to bring her down but she swooped low and banked left, darting out of their target path.

  
Angling back around she descended on a path of interception, diving straight for the nearest sniper. It raised its bow to fire again but underestimated Ingrid’s speed. Her pegasus banked almost parallel to the ground at the last second, and she lunged, sword cleanly impaling the rider’s chest. The sickening crunch of steel against armor jolted through her arm, the high speed impact threatening to rip her sword from her grasp. Ignoring the screaming pain in her elbow, she held firm, letting the blow carry the rider clean off its horse before she yanked the sword free in a flash of red.

  
The last rider’s bow was trained on her curving flight path. At this close range, so low to the ground, dodging would be useless. Instead she shielded her neck and face with her shoulder and angled directly into its oncoming path. It would have to take the easy shot or veer off and readjust.

  
And just as she expected--it took the shot.

  
The arrow struck hard into her silver pauldron, crumpling it at the point of impact. Her armor absorbed the brunt of the damage and kept the tip from piercing her flesh, but the caved in metal was now creating a crushing pressure against her skin.

  
Channeling the pain into a battlecry, she repositioned and leaned into a driving strike. The momentum of the two mounts carried their respective riders past each other like Knights at a joust. Ingrid’s initial blow glanced upwards off her opponent’s chestpiece, but with an expert twist she let the impetus of the strike deflect into the rider’s neck. Steel punctured through skin and muscle as effortlessly as sliding a knife into pheasant. When the tip cleaved into bone with a sharp crunch, she released the sword to save her arm from further shock.

  
Froth flecked her Pegasus’ nostrils as it snorted and landed into an uneven canter, wings kicking up dust and shedding tattered feathers. Swinging her feet out of the stirrups and leaping from the saddle, Ingrid didn’t pause to calm her pounding heartbeat or acknowledge the pulsing pain in her shoulder.

  
“Ashe!” She stumbled over to where he’d fallen.

  
Blood had dried over his lips, and a fresh trickle was staining a path down his chin. His breathing was labored, his face pale and smudged with grime.

  
“Ing--Ingrid,” he breathed, the weak smile he gave squeezing her heart like a vice.

  
“I’m here.” Her eyes darted over the arrows sticking out of his shoulder and sternum, trying to assess the severity of his injuries.

  
If they had been ordinary snipers with ordinary bows, the arrow shafts could be broken off to minimize further damage, but these…. Her heart sank as she recognized the glossy black shafts that identified the bowmen as Slitherers, members of the dark shadow organization that Byleth and Seteth sought to eradicate. If she didn’t break the shafts cleanly she would just worsen the wounds. But transporting Ashe across this rugged terrain with several inches of arrow protruding from him would be an even greater risk.

  
The only thing she could be certain would make a clean cut was a Relic. Heart beating fast, she broke into a dead run to retrieve Luin, still lodged in the back of a rider’s corpse. Fortunately, the rider had fallen not far from them. Placing a weighted foot on the rider’s back, she gripped her lance and yanked it free. The glinting spear tip dripped with fresh blood. Drying it on her cloak as she ran, she slid back down onto her knees beside Ashe.

  
She gently wrapped her fingers around the shaft in his chest, but even that subtle movement drew a grunt of pain from him. Swallowing, she pressed the razor edge of the spear blade against the dark material, and with a single deft slice, cut the shaft through. There was thankfully little resistance, though with a grimace she knew that meant the arrow head was stuck deep into bone. Tossing the severed shaft aside, she repeated the same actions with the arrow in his shoulder.

  
The intense concentration had caused sweat to bead on her face and drip into her vision. Swiping a dirtied glove over her face, she looked over at her Pegasus, Kyphon. His breath was still steaming from how much she’d pushed him, and crimson streaks stained his snowy white coat. She had to get Ashe help, but she couldn’t spur Kyphon any farther. And she couldn’t abandon the survivors of her battalion…

  
Ashe’s breathing was growing shallower and his gaze was unfocused and tired. She had no choice. She had to get a mount and get him to Acis, and hope to the goddess that they had a decent doctor or healer.

  
She scanned the battlefield, searching for Ashe’s stallion, and spotted it limping and making pitiful whinnies and snorts that broke her heart. A black arrow was stuck deep into its shoulder muscle. It turned her stomach to leave it suffering, but Ashe was her priority, and the horse was in no condition to carry anyone. One of the enemy mounts would have to do.

  
Now freed of their riders, the dark maned horses were wandering aimlessly around the battlefield. Given that they were Slitherer mounts, she wondered how their temperament toward a new rider would be, much less a wounded one. If they were unruly, the impact from their unbridled galloping might only make Ashe worse… She’d have to ride hard to get him there as fast as possible, and it would be a tricky feat to manage without the arrows being jostled further in.

  
“We’re going to get you help, Ashe, just hang on.” Her voice was tense as she squeezed his hand for reassurance.

  
She just hoped and prayed the enemy horses wouldn’t be too skittish…

  
As she started to go after the nearest one, she heard Kyphon give a loud whinny. Turning, she saw him trot over to her and shake his mane. His sides were still coated in drying sweat and two lacerations oozed along his flank. She took his muzzle in her hands and nuzzled her forehead against his.

  
“Stay here and rest, I’ll be back,” her voice was soothing. “Thank you for your hard work today.”

  
Kyphon tugged his face free and snorted several times, eyeing Ingrid. He flexed his wings out and stamped his front hooves. Ingrid understood him as well as she did any human.

  
“No, you’re hurt! There’s no way you carry both of us. I’ll just--”

  
Kyphon cut her off with an indignant neigh. She hesitated, staring deep into the Pegasus’ liquid black eyes. He had been her faithful companion for years, ever since she first returned home after the fall of Garreg Mach. Their bond had deepened over the course of battle after bloody battle, and she had come to trust him instinctively.

  
She couldn’t afford to spend time wavering.

  
“Fine, but I’m sorry to ask this of you…” Worry and fear tensed her voice. Though Ashe was slim and only a few inches taller than her, doubled weight on an injured Pegasus was extremely risky. Kyphon would have to expend an enormous amount of energy to get them airborne. But she had no choice. She had to trust him.

  
She hurriedly started unbuckling the saddle straps, yanking the belts loose one by one until she could grip the heavy leather and lift it free of Kyphon’s back. Tossing it aside she hastened over to Ashe and knelt beside him. He’d lost even more color and his eyes were half lidded.

  
“I’m going to help you up now.” She braced his back with the flat of her palm and lifted him up into a sitting position. Draping his arm around her shoulders, she used her weight to lift them both up onto their feet. A sheen of sickly sweat glistened on Ashe’s face, no doubt from the pain of exertion.

  
_If they just had a healer!_

  
She helped him hobble weakly, bearing the brunt of his weight. He muttered a few unintelligible words.

  
“You’re doing great, Ashe.”

  
Kyphon stretched out his legs to bring the center of his back lower, trying to make mounting easier, but Ingrid would still have to lift and boost Ashe up without disturbing the arrow stumps remaining in his body.

  
Pausing to steady her breathing, she brought her free palm up to cup Ashe’s face and gently turned him to face her.

  
“I need you to look at me,” she said slowly and calmly.

  
Through erratic breaths and hazy vision he fought to focus on her eyes. She would have to hope he was alert enough for one last push.

  
“I need you to reach up and hold tight when I boost you up, ok? Stay with me for this one push, Ashe. On the count of three you need to hold fast.”

  
He didn’t acknowledge her request, and she couldn’t wait to confirm his understanding.

  
_Goddess, please watch over us. Please let me get Ashe to safety._ Bracing her weight, she inhaled deeply and counted down. “One. Two. Three!”

  
Her already sore arms burned as she hauled him up, and when he gave a strangled cry her heart nearly stopped, worrying he wasn’t going to catch himself. But thank the Goddess, through hyperventilating gasps of breath, he stayed seated, though his posture swayed from unsteadiness.

  
With a single motion she swung herself up behind him and eased him back to rest snug against her chest so he wouldn’t collapse.

  
Kyphon neighed loudly and took off into a gallop, wings flapping violently to generate momentum and lift. Ingrid gripped Ashe tightly with one arm and held on to Kyphon’s mane with the other. The Pegasus rode hard, froth streaming from his nose, and with one great leap he launched into the air. Without a saddle or the ability to hug her mount’s neck for support, Ingrid had to rely on the grip of her thighs to keep balance.

  
_Goddess she was going to be sore_ , but she couldn’t think about that.

  
If they had one saving grace, it was that the wind was favorable and allowed Kyphon to glide and conserve what little strength he had remaining. It would save Ashe from the bumpy impact of a turbulent ride as well. Maybe the goddess really had heard her prayer. Her heart beat loud in her chest and time seemed to be passing so slowly.

  
Ashe’s head hung low, his scruffy hair brushing against her chin. He smelled of sweat and dirt, and the mineral tang of dried blood hung about him. She couldn’t feel his pulse through the thick outer jacket he wore, but he was still breathing in shallow rasps. Drawing him closer still, she rested her head on top of his. Her eyes stung, whether from the whipping wind or the threat of tears she couldn’t tell.

  
Acis wasn’t far, and with a tired snort, Kyphon began sloping into a descent. Ingrid’s thighs burned as she held tight and angled back to steady her balance. The Pegasus coasted low and when he was several feet from the ground, he gave several strong flaps then slid into a landing trot. The ground impact was jarring, jerking Ashe forward and straining Ingrid’s one-armed restraint.

  
Upon their unusual and unexpected arrival, a few townspeople cautiously glanced out of windows and cracked doors open to peep outside.

  
“I need a doctor or a healer!” Ingrid’s powerful voice rang out.

  
A quiet murmuring behind doors could be heard, and she waited impatiently, sweat trailing down her face and neck. Ashe slumped forward, and she could tell he was fully unconscious now.

  
“Please!” she called again. “We are Knights of the Holy Kingdom that have just returned from dealing with the bandit encampment to your South!”

  
After several long moments, a spectacled man finally emerged from one of the houses just across the street. He was tall and thin, and reminded Ingrid vaguely of Hanneman but twenty years younger. The man approached them with cautious steps. His voice was quiet when he spoke.

  
“I am the local doctor here. Unfortunately we don’t have a healer in the area, but I will do what I can to aid the Holy Knights.”

  
He looked them up and down, assessing their dilemma and perhaps reassuring himself they were indeed not with the rogue soldiers. But despite the blood and grime covering them, their silver and blue armor was unmistakable. Satisfied, he hurried over to offer assistance. With a grunt of exhaustion, Ingrid carefully passed Ashe down to the doctor, before sliding off her mount.

  
“He took two arrows from enemy soldiers, I think a dark mage was among them.” Ingrid explained in a rush.

  
The doctor nodded and called for two hiding townspeople to come help him support Ashe. He exchanged a few words with them and pointed, then they gingerly carried Ashe away to what Ingrid could only hope was an infirmary.

  
The doctor turned back toward her. “And you?”

  
“I’m fine,” she sighed. “But my Pegasus needs attention.”

  
The doctor eyed the mount hesitantly. “We don’t treat many of those here, but we’ll do our best.”

  
“Do you have a horse I can borrow? I need one desperately.” She cast her gaze around to try and spot any kind of horse in the small village. Surely they had at least one…

  
A tall, stocky man came forward. “You can borrow mine, Lady Knight. He’s not built for speed or distance, but he can get you where you need to go.”

  
Relief lightened her face. “Thank you, kind Sir.”

  
The man led her down the street to what looked like a blacksmith’s shop. Around back he had a dark bay workhorse. The creature was massive and muscular, and looked none too spry, but she had to take what was offered. He unhitched the horse and brought it over to her.

  
“We saw your troops fly in, then some kind of sandstorm covered the camp,” the man said. “Figure that’s where you need to go?”

  
“Yes,” she nodded. “I also need to get a message back to the Kingdom and ask for help from a friend. I think the arrows my partner was wounded by have dark magic about them. He’s going to need a healer.”

  
The man gave her a reassuring nod. “You’re in luck, we train some of the best messenger pigeons around here. You go do what you need to do, I’ll get a bird out.”

  
“Thank you.” Hope was finally starting to release the tension from her chest. “Send it to the Martritz Abbey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome to my very first multi-chapter fic! I'm quite nervous and excited. I've spent many weeks working on this simply because Ingrid and Ashe deserve all the love and appreciation, and I wanted to craft a bit of a classic Knightly Romance tale. There will be pain, angst, fluff, and an exploration into Ingrid's thoughts and character growth. Despite being an "Ashegrid" fic my focus will favor Ingrid and her perspective.
> 
> Next chapter should be posted late next week! Comments, thoughts, and interactions are welcome and deeply appreciated. :)


	2. Courage: Of Tea and Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ingrid deals with the aftermath of the ambush, pushing through her own pain and weariness to make sure the survivors are taken care of. The arrival of Mercedes is a timely blessing, and under the skillful care of the cleric, the situation is stabilizing. But without the chaos to keep her occupied, Ingrid is forced to confront the guilt and exhaustion that's been wearing her down. When she sees the extent of the wounds Ashe has suffered, it's going to take a lot of courage to overcome her chilling regret.

“His wounds show signs of toxic necrosis, or perhaps some kind of chemical corrosion.” The doctor adjusted his glasses as he conversed in hushed tones with Ingrid. 

After she had entrusted Ashe to the doctor’s care, she had ridden back to regroup with the surviving Knights. While the rogue soldiers and mercenaries had indeed been wiped out, it had come at an unexpectedly tragic cost. The ambush had claimed many noble lives: less than half of her allies had survived. Helping the wounded and gathering what arms they could salvage, they trudged back to Acis in hopes of shelter and aid.

The town’s infirmary was small and quickly overcrowded, but the doctor and a group of kind volunteers worked through the night to patch up the disheartened Knights and provide food and water. Ingrid stayed focused on helping wherever she could, taking no time to rest or slow down. By the dawn’s light, haggard lines stretched her face thin and weariness was evident in her slouched posture and sluggish steps. 

Now with the morning well underway, the wounded had been tended and things were finally settling down. The doctor had pulled Ingrid aside for a quiet briefing and fetched them both a well-earned glass of water.

“I would posit that the arrow material itself, by my best analysis, is somehow toxic to human tissue. That’s the only thing that would explain the severe reaction to wounds that otherwise should have healed by now.”

His explanation just caused what little hope she’d clung to in her heart to fade. She and the doctor fell into silence as they sipped on water.

“It was wise forethought to send for a healer,” the doctor said after a pause, attempting to cheer them both up. “She’s been a goddess send.”

Mercedes had arrived just hours ago. She’d wasted no time in flying directly to their aid once she’d received the message. Now she flitted about, visiting each wounded Knight individually, smiling and crooning words of encouragement despite the morose atmosphere. She had always been able to brighten the mood just by her sunny presence alone, and the gravitas lifted bit by bit as her tender care began to restore their morale. Ingrid had always admired that infectious positivity she radiated.

A soothing aroma suddenly wafted by, and Ingrid lifted her head to see Mercedes herself bringing a tray of tea to them. “I thought we could all use a little refreshment.” 

With a slight bow of thanks, the doctor gladly took a cup, and even Ingrid had to admit that tea sounded comforting right now. 

“I got this lovely blend with dried mountain berries--oh, I hope it’s not too tart for you, Ingrid.” Mercedes’ voice was light and singsong, and Ingrid could tell she was striving to stay upbeat.

“It’s wonderful.” Taking a sip, the tea was indeed a touch tangy for Ingrid’s palette, but she could appreciate the floral notes of the berries. And truth be told she was just grateful for something warm to chase the chill away and quench her thirst.

They enjoyed a quiet moment together, inhaling the fragrant scent and letting the warmth seep into their tired bones. The doctor was the first to excuse himself, thanking Mercedes profusely and heading out to make another round of patient visits. Ingrid finished her tea and was certain she could have downed a whole pot, but her mood was too sour to appreciate any further nourishment right now.

“Would you like to see him?” her friend asked quietly.

Inhaling deeply, Ingrid let the air expand in her lungs until she could hold it no more. She sighed and nodded, and followed Mercedes back to the infirmary. The Knights who weren’t in critical condition had been treated and moved to makeshift cots or rehomed into volunteer’s houses. Only two remained in the doctor’s care, and in the back, resting by himself, was Ashe.

Nerves pulsed under Ingrid’s skin and she felt sick to her stomach. She’d experienced many close calls in the War, but she’d never had to watch the life slowly drain from her partner’s face as he lay bloodied at her feet. 

She’d never had to wonder if Ashe was going to take his last breath clutched tightly in her arms. The lifeless feel of him limp and unconscious against her chest still haunted her…

Mercedes led Ingrid through the now quiet infirmary and into the separate little back room. There were two windows on either side with curtains drawn shut to keep the lighting dim. The space was just big enough for a single bed and a chair beside it, a simple wooden stand, and a workbench along one wall. No doubt with such a small community, the clinic was built to treat the occasional broken bone and common illness, not provide care to multiple trauma patients overnight.

Mercedes hung back by the door and folded her hands as Ingrid cautiously approached the bedside. Thick bandages had been wrapped around Ashe’s chest and shoulder, and even in the dim light she could see how unnaturally pale his skin was. His freckles stood out more than ever against his sickly pallor. 

“He’s stable and I’ve healed the internal damage he suffered, but the wounds aren’t knitting together like they should be…” Mercedes lowered her eyes to the floor. “I’ve sent for some antitoxin to try to fully close them. But it’s possible the pain of the wounds will still linger.”

Ingrid remembered Manuela still complaining about the stab wound from the Death Knight years after it happened, about how it would ache in bad weather or throb when she was particularly stressed.

“The scars shouldn’t stop him from physically recovering, though,” Mercedes tried to add more brightly. “Right now he just needs to rest and heal.”

Part of Ingrid felt numb, helpless. Ashe was her partner. They’d been Knighted together and had always fearlessly supported each other. Yet here she was, looking down from above at his frail form, utterly unable to reach out and rescue him.

He had sacrificed himself, like a true Knight would. She would have done the same, proudly and without hesitation. And yet...

She  _ hated it.  _ The feeling of being left behind again. Of being utterly unable to protect those she loved. The raw intensity of emotion made her hands tremble and curl into fists. 

Mercedes watched her for a moment before quietly offering, “You haven’t slept at all, you should rest while you’re here. We’ll take care of everything else today.” Without waiting for an answer, she began to inch the door closed. “I’ll bring some more tea by later.”

With a soft  _ click _ , Ingrid was left in silence. She remained in place at Ashe’s bedside, lost in an ever-changing cloud of emotions, before she pulled the chair closer and sank into it with a sigh. Though the room was quiet, she couldn’t call it peaceful. Her nerves were still frayed and tense, and the lack of ambient sound just made the pulsing in her ears louder. 

Ashe’s chest rose and fell slowly and rhythmically under a thick fleece blanket. A faint chill hung in the air. With the curtains drawn closed, the meager sunlight couldn’t penetrate the room to provide any relief. Reaching out, Ingrid took his fingertips in her own. His fingers were cold and numb, and made her own hands feel toasty in comparison. 

Wrapping both her hands around his, she couldn’t help but notice how relatively small his hand was. It was nearly the same size as her own, and while her hands weren’t particularly dainty, they were doll-like compared to Sylvain and Dimitri’s bear-sized paws. Sitting there now, she supposed she’d never paid attention to the way Ashe’s hand matched against hers, or the graceful shape of his fingers as they curled underneath her palm. Freckles dotted the back of his hand, interspersed among several faded hairline scars.

She lightly massaged warmth back into his hand, rubbing her thumbs against his palm and working her way down each finger. When the damp chill had been kneaded away, she gently lifted the blanket covering him and tucked his arm underneath. Raising herself out of the chair, she walked around to the opposite side of the bed and lightly perched on the bedside. She took his other hand and began massaging it as well. He made no sound or acknowledgment of her, and his breathing never altered. She cast a glance at his face. Deep shadows around his eyes made him look gaunt and worn, and tense lines set into his face betrayed the pain of an uncomfortable sleep.

She kept hold of his hand long after it had warmed up, absentmindedly stroking her thumbs along his palm. Finally she tucked it under the blanket too, and leaned her head down against the bedding. Weariness had soaked into her bones. Closing her eyes, she let the solitude of the room consume the rapid darting of her thoughts until nothing remained.

* * *

A knock on the door startled her awake. She jerked her head up in confusion, a scratchy red indent on her cheek from where she’d fallen into a dead sleep.

“Tea time,” Mercedes’ light, airy voice called. Her friend entered the room carrying a tray with a steaming tea pot, two cups, and a small platter of preserves and bread.

Ingrid’s back and neck crackled in protest as she stretched, straightening out of the awkward position she had fallen asleep in. The room was even darker now, and judging by the heavy golden glow against the curtains, the sun was starting to set. She must have passed out for a few hours. That was unlike her.

Mercedes set the tray down on the bed stand and set about lighting a few candles. The warm glow illuminated the room in a comfortable light and chased away the creeping shadows. Ingrid glanced back at Ashe. He was still soundly unconscious, just as pallid and unstirring as before. Her heart dropped to see his condition unchanged.

Satisfied with the bit of brightness now lightening the room, Mercedes sat and poured them each a cup of tea. Gratefully taking the offered refreshment, Ingrid perched back on the edge of the bed. The cup was delightfully warm in her hands, and the bright, invigorating aroma was unmistakable. She couldn’t hold back a small smile.

“You made my favorite.” Taking a sip, she savored the fragrant, crisp taste of mint.

Mercedes let out a small giggle. “I managed to find some mint leaves just for you.”

The soothing liquid was a balm to her parched tongue. Before she had even finished her cup, Mercedes had already brought the teapot up for another pour. Ingrid downed two cups with weary appreciation before gingerly grabbing a slice of bread with berry preserves. 

“I truly can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done, Mercedes,” Ingrid said. “I can’t believe we let ourselves be ambushed like that. We didn’t even see it coming. So many good Knights lost their lives…”

Guilt tugged at her heart and sent an unsettling wave of adrenaline through her skin. Everything about the Slitherer’s coordination had been perfect, from their timing to their aim. If it hadn’t been for Ashe…

Mercedes calmly sipped at her tea. “I heard what happened from the Knights as well. But they all praised your swift action, and Ashe’s. Because of the two of you, there will still be soldiers able to return home to their families.”

Ingrid sighed, not sure if that brought her much comfort. She’d never lost lives under her command like that. What would His Majesty think... 

_ His Majesty… _

She sobered at the memory of his paranoid obsessions with the dead. It had almost destroyed him. Deep down he still struggled to overcome the ghosts of his past.

As turbulent as she felt, she knew all too well guilt and regret wouldn’t bring back the dead. She couldn’t afford to wallow. It would be a dishonor to those who put their lives at stake to stand for justice. All she could do was move forward and ensure their sacrifice wasn’t in vain. 

Noticing the resolve slowly settle on Ingrid’s face, Mercedes handed her another jam-covered toast. Ingrid accepted it, and together they munched on the remaining snacks and made quick work of the pot of tea.

She had to admit, she felt much more grounded with a bit of food and sugar in her stomach. She had to push forward past this and rise above despair. 

“Now you look more like the Ingrid I know,” Mercedes gave a small chuckle. “It’s getting late, do you want to come back with me to the Apothecary’s? The shopkeeper is very kind. She’s hosting my stay here, and there’s room for you too.”

“Actually,” Ingrid glanced back at her partner, “I’m going to stay here with Ashe. I don’t want him to be alone and confused when he wakes up.”

A conflicted look passed over Mercedes’ face, worried her friend was still pushing herself too much, but she sighed and got up. “In that case I’ll make sure the doctor brings some bedding over for you.”

True to her word, it wasn’t long after she’d left that the doctor returned with arms full of blankets and a folded cot. While Ingrid busied herself with shaking out the sheets and setting up her makeshift bed, the doctor circled around Ashe, taking his pulse, listening to his breathing, and checking his unconscious reflexes. 

“He’s holding steady,” the doctor said, stepping back. “No worsening, that bodes well. It’s just up to his body to rest and heal until he wakes up.”

“Do you...have any guess when that might be?” Ingrid’s voice felt small despite the hope she was trying to hold onto.

“Could be any time. Tonight, tomorrow…. Could be next week.” He turned and gave her a gentle smile. “It will take time, but myself and your cleric friend are confident he’ll recover.”

“Right…” she nodded, trying to find assurance in that as she laid down on her cot. 

“Get some sleep. Rest is just as important for you as it is for him.” He fixed her with a chiding look. “If you need anything I’m just in the next house over.”

She thanked him, and after he was gone, the overwhelming tiredness started to sink in. She hadn’t slept at all last night, focused instead on getting her Knights settled and taken care of and helping with supplying cots and medical aid. 

Truth be told, she didn’t relish being alone with only her frantic thoughts and memories of the attack to keep her company… Her heart was still skipping a beat faster than normal. But she had people relying on her, good men and women who needed her to stay level-headed and guide them. And Ashe would need her when he woke up.

She couldn’t ignore the weight in her body anymore. Every muscle and bone was exhausted, every nerve frayed and waiting for the desperate relief of rest. She didn’t bother unbraiding her hair or washing her face, or even stripping out of her outer garments. She’d pushed as far she could go, and that was just going to have to be good enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two, we're halfway there now! I wanted to spend this chapter delving into Ingrid's perspective and mindset, how she feels and what she's going through. She already lost someone precious when Glenn died, what would it feel like for her to have to confront that possibility again? She's such a strong person, I wanted to explore a bit of vulnerability. Mercedes felt like a natural choice to include because I love how warm and down to earth her supports with Ingrid are. 
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me, I hope you look forward to the next chapter :)  
> As always, a huge thank you for any views, kudos, and comments! <3


	3. Hope: A Candlelit Distraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashe finally wakes from his coma, but his full recovery is going to be a long and painful process. Ingrid stays beside him to offer support and encouragement, but unexpectedly finds herself being the one encouraged.

A faint groan stirred her from a deep slumber, and at first the grogginess of being awoken left her disoriented. Her senses felt dull as she wearily lifted herself out of bed, half expecting someone to enter the room with news of another attack. Suddenly wondering if that was a possibility, a shock of adrenaline sobered her senses and cleared the fog from her mind.

She listened, propped up on her elbows, but the streets outside were silent. The candles had burned out, leaving the room completely dark.

Rustling sheets interrupted the quiet followed by another raspy groan. 

_ Ashe! _ Her heart caught in her chest and she flung off the blankets covering her.

A thin column of light shone through the divide in the curtains, illuminating a strip across Ashe’s bed. Leaning close, Ingrid was greeted by Ashe’s bleary light green eyes staring into hers. Happiness and relief flooded her chest to see him awake.

“Ashe!” A hundred questions and exclamations threatened to spill out, but she settled for the simplest. “How do you feel?”

He took a moment, either to ponder or process, and with a weak laugh he said, “Cold.”

Ingrid swiped the blankets she had been using off her cot and hurriedly draped them over him, fussing with the wrinkles and smoothing them out.

“You’re ok,” his voice was weak but sounded as relieved as hers did. 

“Of course I am. It’s you I’m worried about.” She couldn’t hold back a frown, concern knitting her brows. When she was satisfied that he was thoroughly tucked beneath the added covers, she straightened and fixed him with a hard stare. “You were very reckless.”

He made a sound that came out half-cough, half-laugh. “I have to admit everything  _ does _ hurt…”

Guilt pricked her heart, and before she could stop herself she lashed out. “You could have been killed! When I saw you down on the battlefield you were charging headfirst into three oncoming bowmen aiming right for you!”   
  
“Had to stop the ambush.” His eyes drifted closed for a moment, and he seemed to pause for breath. Ingrid could tell he was in a lot of pain by the faltering way he inhaled and exhaled. But then he opened his eyes and fixed her with a smile. “You would have...done the same.”

She sighed and sank onto the edge of the bed. He was absolutely right, of that she couldn’t argue. If their positions had been reversed, she wouldn’t have hesitated to take any risk upon herself to save those she loved. In fact if it had been any other Knight in her command, she would have lauded their bravery and sacrifice...but with Ashe it was affecting her differently. They had both sworn vows to serve their King and country as Knights, and yet--

“I just don’t want anyone dying to protect me…” She laced her fingers together, avoiding his eyes. “When Glenn died, I was devastated. I spent months mourning. I knew his sacrifice was noble, and I knew I would have made the same choice… But that didn’t make it any less painful.”

Silence settled back over the room as she paused to order her thoughts. The only sound was Ashe’s raspy breathing and occasional cough. She wasn’t looking at him, but she could feel his gaze and attention on her all the same.

Taking a steadying breath she continued. “I just want to be strong enough to stand on my own.”

Ashe gave a sudden ragged laugh that startled her. “You are. The strongest person I know. But...we’re partners. And we support each other.”

She finally met his gaze, and his smile was so warm it humbled her. She’d gone about this all wrong… She was supposed to be comforting him, not the other way around. She laid her hand on top of his over the blanket.

“I’m sorry,” she said sheepishly. “I’ve done nothing but berate you since you woke up. You were so brave, and you saved lives that would have been lost had you not acted as fast as you did.” She squeezed his hand tighter. “I admit I just got...scared. I don’t want to lose anyone else precious to me.”

Ashe slipped his hand away, dragging it out from underneath the blanket, and then took hers again. “You’re...precious to me, too.”

Ingrid felt her cheeks heat, and she looked away despite the unspoken pleasure she felt hearing him say that. Instead she focused on their clasped hands. “Your skin is still cold.” She lifted his hand closer and began massaging it like before.

With a quiet sigh, Ashe let his eyes close. His consciousness ebbed in and out, but his body seemed more relaxed. The stillness between them was comfortable, and Ingrid finally felt convinced that he was going to be ok.

“How’s Kyphon?” Ashe asked despite his weariness.

“He did get hurt, but he’s recovering well.” Ingrid had almost restored the warmth to his hand. She continued rubbing slow circles on his palm to help him relax. “You know, he carried both of us here from the battlefield despite his injuries.”

“I’ll have to thank him,” Ashe gave a weak smile of appreciation.

“You need to get some more rest first,” Ingrid chided lightly. 

“You… too,” he squeezed her hand with what little firmness he could muster. He knew how tirelessly she worked, even while injured. 

She remained by his side a while longer, reluctant to let go of the comforting warmth of his hand in hers. When she finally pulled herself away, she got off the bed and gently tucked his arm back underneath his layers of blankets. 

“I’ll be right here, in case you need anything.”

He grunted in acknowledgement, but she could tell he was already drifting off again. She lowered herself back down onto the now naked cot and curled up. Despite the cool air nipping at her, there was a glowing warmth in her chest that had burned away her weariness. Fueled by that feeling, she fell asleep in uninterrupted comfort for the first time in days.

* * *

The following day came and went.

Ashe was still dozing in and out of consciousness but his physical condition had continued to stabilize. Mercedes spent her morning and afternoon aiding the doctor in the recovery of the tired Knights, chatting with them and lifting their spirits with her sunny demeanor. Ingrid would forever be grateful to her. 

As for Ingrid, she had been sentenced to spending her day recovering. Mercedes took morning tea with her then refused all her offers of assistance. Even the doctor and the townsfolk told her kindly yet firmly to catch up on her rest, despite how insistent she was on being of use. She felt indignant at first, but had to relent and finally admit to herself that she  _ had _ been pushing her limits. 

After spending a few hours catching up with her allies and checking in on her team’s recovery, she trudged back to her temporary room at the Apothecary’s and spent the rest of the day and evening in bed.

* * *

The next morning she rose early. Her body had finally started to catch up to itself, her cuts and bruises fading into dull aches which were more easily ignored. For a moment she simply sat on the edge of the bed, letting the fogginess of sleep dissolve from her mind. It had gotten colder overnight. The air was sharp and raised goosebumps along her exposed skin. She wondered if Ashe was warm enough. 

The thought tugged at her mind, so she decided to take advantage of her relative restfulness and go check on him. Getting up, she hurried to dress, pausing just long enough to brush the static out of her hair and refresh her braid. She glanced down at the dresser, on which sat a particular item she had tracked down during her off-day yesterday. Deciding it wouldn’t hurt to take it along just in case, she buckled her worn leather pouch around her waist and tucked the item inside.

No one else in the house seemed awake yet. Borrowing a cloak that the shop keeper had left out for her, she quietly slipped out of the shop. It was dark, with only the barest whispers of light edging around the mountain range. A heavy gray mist hung in the air, bringing with it a dusting of frigid dew that clung to the plants and soaked into the ground. The air was thick with the scent of damp dirt and grass. 

There was no light from any of the town’s windows as she walked across the street to the infirmary. As quietly as she could, she inched the door open and slid inside. The infirmary was dry and warmer than the outer air, at least, but a pointed chill still hung about it. She padded over to the back patient room and entered, eager to check on Ashe.

The curtains were drawn open, letting a hazy gray light spill over the bed. The room wasn’t as cold as she had feared, but she still wanted to make sure he was resting comfortably. Approaching the bed with slow footsteps, she noticed his face was tense despite his closed eyes. His brows were knitted and his breath came in uneven snags, inhaling and exhaling in shallow rasps that had no rhythm. Droplets of sweat had beaded on his face. 

Ingrid’s heart squeezed tightly to see him in so much pain. The doctor had warned that as Ashe’s consciousness returned and sharpened, he would feel the pain more acutely. She laid her hand on his forehead. His skin was clammy. He stirred at her touch and turned his head to face her, opening his eyes in slow confusion.

“Oh… Ingrid.” He gave her a weak smile that pricked her heart even more.

“How’re you doing?” His condition was evident but it was all she could think to ask at first.

“A bit...painful,” he admitted, his chest still rising and falling in rapid, shallow breaths.

“Do you want me to go get the doctor, or Mercedes?”

“No, no,” he shook his head. “I’m happy you came to see me, happy for the...distraction.” Another spasm of pain crossed his face but she could tell he was doing his best to suppress it.

She gently wiped the sweat from his brow and brushed the stray strands of hair from his face. “I told Kyphon you wanted to thank him once you were back on your feet. He’s excited to know you’re recovering.”

“Heh,” Ashe chuckled softly, enjoying the soothing motion of her touch. “I’ll be back on my feet before you know it.”

“I know you will.” She smiled warmly, letting her fingertips run through his hair. His messy locks were damp and in desperate need of grooming. Tucking a few matted tufts behind his ears, she continued to lightly brush through his hair, and it seemed to calm him.

“I brought something,” she offered, “a distraction, to help you sleep.” With her free hand she unbuckled her pouch and drew out a small leather-bound book. It was old and poorly cared for, but still intact. Looking at it now, she suddenly felt a bit shy. “It’s a book I found about Loog. It’s not as eloquent or comprehensive as ‘Loog and the Maiden of Wind’, but from what I’ve read so far it’s an enjoyable take on their exploits.”

“Oh really?” a hint of light shone in Ashe’s eyes. “I’d love to read it.” He shifted to try and reach for it then winced and settled back against the bed.

“I could…read it for you,” Ingrid said hesitantly. “It’s dark but… I could light a candle if you’d like.”

“I’d love that.” Ashe’s smile was warm enough to melt the coldest ice. It never failed to make her own heart feel lighter. 

She left his side just long enough to retrieve two candles from the table against the wall and light them with a small tinderbox. Carrying them over and placing them on the small stand beside the bed, she perched back on the bedside. Ashe clumsily scooted over to make room, despite making a few grunts of pain.

Settling back into the bed, Ingrid opened the book and leaned closer into the meager candlelight. It was just enough to illuminate the dusty pages. “It was Imperial Year 747, and the fires of the Adrestian Empire burned brightly against the night sky. Smoke filled the crisp winter air, inciting panic over the otherwise serene land……”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again all! Next week will be the last chapter, and thus the conclusion of this tale! It's going to be a chunkier chapter, so look forward to it. I hope you're enjoying the story and how it's all unfolding. This week we finally get some Ashe and Ingrid interaction, which I had a lot of fun writing. Look forward to a loooot more next week as well ;)


	4. Devotion: Freckles and Fondness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ashe's recovery is slow but steady, and meanwhile Ingrid has settled into a routine around town. Things are going well until the doctor is called away on an emergency and leaves Ingrid in charge of Ashe's medical care. But Ingrid has changed many a bandage in her time, this will be no different, right? She's determined to stay focused, or she might just realize that her partner means more to her than a simple Knightly companion... 
> 
> The unabashedly feel-good conclusion to this four-part tale.

Later that morning, as Ingrid was enjoying a cup of fresh mint tea with Mercedes, a commotion could be heard down the street. A moment later the doctor ran by outside. Spotting them through the shop window, he paused, signaled to them, and hurriedly rushed inside. He looked from Mercedes to Ingrid and adjusted his spectacles. 

“Lady Mercedes, if I could be so bold as to beg your assistance, there was a bit of an accident at the Delaine’s farm.”

“Oh of course,” Mercedes’ perpetual smile turned into a frown of concern and she immediately set down her tea cup. “I’d be happy to help.”

He gave a prompt bow and turned to Ingrid. “Lady Ingrid, I was just on way to change Sir Ashe’s bandages but this is more urgent. I shall strive to return within the hour, but…”

“Do you need any help?” Ingrid had already abandoned her own tea and pushed away from the table.

“No, Lady Mercedes will be all the help I require, but… If you have any experience changing bandages--”

“Absolutely, I’ll take care of Ashe.”

“Oh, and I finally received a shipment of antitoxin elixir this morning. Please use those on the bandages and I’ll check in as soon as I’m done.”

Mercedes left swiftly with the doctor and Ingrid headed over to the infirmary. Changing bandages was a simple enough task. She’d had to treat herself and her soldiers many times when they were out on a mission.

She found Ashe awake when she walked into the back room. He greeted her with that heart-melting smile of his and struggled to give her a half-hearted wave.

“Feeling better I see,” she teased. She found a stack of clean bandages left on the work table. A few crystal clear bottles sat next to them, and a small bucket of water with clean rags was placed below the table right next to a second empty bucket. The doctor must have had everything prepped before he was interrupted. She brought both buckets over to the bedside.

“The doctor is busy, so I hope you don’t mind if I take over cleaning your wounds today.”

“Oh, n-not at all,” Ashe said, a hint of blush creeping onto his face. His complexion was healthier and less pallid this morning. His freckles didn’t stand out so starkly against his pale skin anymore. 

He started to raise himself out of bed but hesitated halfway up. Ingrid reached over to help him but he waved her away. Panting, he forced himself the rest of the way up, sweat beading and trickling down his forehead. Ingrid could tell it had taken an immense amount of willpower for him to manage even that.

“Take your time,” she encouraged. “That chest wound was deep. It’s going to be awhile before your stamina returns. There’s no need to force yourself."

He was still panting when he replied. “Gotta start...trying.”

She let him catch his breath for a moment. His cheeks were red, whether from pain or blush or embarrassment, she decided not to guess at. There was no visible blood seeping through the thick bandages around his chest and shoulder, so that was reassuring.

“Ready?” Ingrid asked.

He nodded, gritting his teeth. The routine itself wasn’t painful but any movement of his shoulder still sent a numbing pain shooting down to his fingertips. He slowly raised his arms up enough to be out of the way of the bandages.

Ingrid used delicate care to unwrap each layer until the cloth finally fell away. Crumpling it into the spare bucket, she inhaled sharply when she saw the exposed wound on his bare chest. The vertical puncture was small and precise, only an inch long in the dead-center of his sternum, but the edges around the wound were slightly blackened and ragged, as if the skin had been burned or corroded. She swallowed back a wince.

He shyly averted his eyes. “It uh, looks bad, I know.”

She understood now why Mercedes had warned that he could suffer permanent damage from this, if even Faith magic wasn’t enough to close and seal the wound, as small as it was. She uncorked one of the bottles of antitoxin and soaked a clean rag in it.

“I don’t know if this will sting or not,” she cautioned. She gently pressed the cloth to his chest and he hissed and scrunched his eyes closed. His whole body tensed as he struggled not to flinch away.

She tried to stay cool and dispassionate as she let the elixir soak into the wound. Spasms of pain rippled through Ashe’s rigid muscles and she could tell he was holding his breath the whole time. After several long seconds she drew the cloth away and examined the spot. To her surprise, the worst looking edges of the wound were white and fizzing as if she’d poured boiling foam onto it. Panic shot through her until she looked closer and realized the fizzing solution seemed to be leeching the toxin out. 

She wrung out the rag in the water bucket and dabbed at the painful looking skin. Steeling herself for a second round, she reapplied the solution. Ashe clenched his jaw and looked away, squeezing his eyes shut. 

When she had wiped it away again, she noted that while the skin looked raw and ragged, it had a much healthier glisten to it. She moved on to the matching puncture on the fleshy spot beneath his shoulder and gingerly went through the same process. 

When she was satisfied the wounds had been thoroughly cleaned, she got a fresh rag and dipped it in the cold water bucket. Ashe’s face was slick with sweat. She gently wiped the perspiration off his face, then pressed a hand to his forehead. He was warm. She refreshed the rag and brought it to his face again, this time letting the coolness seep into his feverish skin.

Looking at him this closely and intently, she couldn’t help but appreciate small details about him. The way his lashes rested against his cheek when his eyes were closed. How cute and almost dainty his nose was. How many freckles speckled his nose and cheeks, far more than she'd ever noticed. And the way his trembling bottom lip was sticking out in a slight pout.

Wiping the cloth in a smooth, slow motion across his forehead and down his cheeks, it dawned on her that she’d never taken in how attractive Ashe really was. She’d always found him cute and endearing, and later as they’d fought side by side, their bond of trust had only deepened. She never felt any pressure around him. She didn’t have to constantly babysit and berate him like she did Sylvain, and unlike Felix he wore his emotions honestly and openly. He had believed in her dream of becoming a Knight when even she had begun to admit defeat. The book he had gifted her was still one of her most treasured possessions. 

When the rag had drawn some of the fever out of his skin, she started to pull it away, then paused. Lightly, she brushed both her thumbs across his cheekbones. Though the color had returned to his face, there was still a slight sunken gauntness to him. He opened his eyes and met hers.

“You need to try your best to eat something,” Ingrid said worriedly.

He gave an awkward chuckle, cheeks flushing again. “I’ll work on it.”

“Good. I’ll make some tea for us after this.” 

She discarded the rag and was going to reach for a bottle of ointment when Ashe interrupted her with a fumbling stutter.

“Um, could you….get another cloth for me? I’d like to, uh, wash off a bit.”

She looked back at him and suddenly realized that his torso was just as sweaty as his face had been, whether from fever or the shock of pain she wasn’t sure. A wave of negligence washed over her. 

“I’m sorry, Ashe, I didn’t even think of that.” 

“Oh, no, it’s fine! I just...want to freshen up before the new bandages.”

The doctor probably helped him wipe down during his bandage changes, since he was still bedridden for now. Though he could manage the task with just his good arm, it would be a strain while he was still recovering. Ingrid got up and looked back over at the workbench. It took her a moment, but she found a rough bar of what she assumed to be soap. She brought it over to the bucket with a clean rag.

“Since the doctor isn’t here, I hope it’s ok if I help you with this?”

“Ah, I couldn’t possibly--”

“Don’t be silly, you can barely move around without reopening your wound. As long as I’m not making you uncomfortable--”

“N-no…” his cheeks reddened.

Ingrid had always been able to detach herself and focus on the task at hand. She would have done the same to care for any of her soldiers, or at least she told herself she would. But Ashe’s bashful awkwardness, while admittedly endearing, did make it more challenging to remain impersonal.

She pulled the covers off of him for the first time and he gingerly swung his legs to hang off the side of the bed facing her. He was wearing a pair of baggy breeches the doctor had dressed him in since his own clothes had been filthy. She lightly soaped the cloth and started wiping down his neck and along his shoulders, taking extra care to avoid direct contact with his injuries.

She discovered more details about him she would have otherwise never known. Darker freckles flecked his shoulders and faded into his chest, only to reappear in a lazy pattern near his belly button. Despite his lean physique, his muscles were firm and toned. It was impossible not to notice as she rubbed the cloth down his chest and stomach. The warmth from his skin radiated into her palm through the rag. 

_ Stay focused. _

Wringing the rag out and reapplying a fresh coating of soap, she knelt and cupped his lower calf in her free hand. She wiped down each of his legs in turn, using longer more determined strokes now that she wasn’t in danger of disturbing his wounds. Ashe had staunchly avoided looking at her earlier, but she could feel his gaze on her now, and it flustered her. She kept her touch cool and impartial, trying not to notice how solid his calf muscles were, nor how perfectly each one fit in her hand.

When she had finished, she raised back up and helped him swing his legs back onto the bed. He scooted around so that his back faced her. 

“Almost done,” she said unnecessarily, but it made her feel better to break the unspoken tension.

“Thank you,” he replied softly, with such affection in his tone that she felt her own cheeks heat.

Smiling despite her slight embarrassment, she had to admit that it brought her an undeniable satisfaction to be here tending to him when he needed her. 

She spread the cloth over both her hands and scrubbed up and down his back, since most of his time was spent lying on it. She couldn’t help but blush again as she felt the firm tautness of his muscles beneath his smooth skin. Years of drawing back bow strings had developed well defined musculature along his shoulder blades. And of course she found more of those adorable freckles that peppered his skin, meandering down the length of his back.

Despite her unintentionally amorous gaze, she hadn’t failed to notice more sobering details as well. There were numerous scrapes and cuts down his legs and back from where he’d been thrown from his horse. Dark blotches had bloomed from the bruising impact that were just now starting to fade.

Without the blankets covering him, he had started to shiver from the chill settling on his drying skin. She hurriedly towelled off his back to mop up the excess moisture, then cast a glance at his hair. It was perpetually damp with sweat, but washing it thoroughly in this kind of cold was out of the question. The best she could do was dry it off as well. Vigorously scrunching the towel back and forth through it, she absorbed as much dampness as she could. 

After she’d set the towel aside, she made an attempt to fluff out his tousled hair. She combed her fingers through it, wincing as she snagged on occasional knots and tangles. His hair was thick and full despite how straight it was. He gave a small sigh as she detangled his hair.

“Am I hurting you?” she asked with concern.   
  
“N--no, no,” he said, lightly shaking his head. An embarrassed smile crept on his face. “It actually....feels nice.”

“Oh.” More heat flushed her cheeks. “Well, I’m glad.”

She continued brushing his hair without any hurry, after that, then finally reached over and gathered the fresh roll of bandages and the little jar of ointment. She repositioned to face him and dipped her finger in the sticky salve. With utmost care, she rubbed it over the freshly cleaned scar, noting with relief that some of the feverish warmth had faded from his skin. Now that the soap had dried, she also noticed the harshly sterile scent it left behind. She hoped it wouldn’t bother him.

With a deft hand, she wrapped the bandages around his chest. Reaching around him brought their faces close enough for her to feel the fluttering rhythm of his breathing and the faint heat from his cheeks. He’d averted his gaze again, looking shyly off to the side, but she still took in how green his irises were. As bright and vivid as the first spring grass after the snow had melted. Staring into them was somehow mesmerizing, like gazing across an endless open field, so full of life.

She finished by wrapping the bandage up and around his shoulder, tucking the ends in and smoothing it all out. For a moment, she let her fingers drift and linger against the bare skin of his chest. Before she had time to doubt or second guess herself, she leaned over and pecked a quick kiss to his cheek. 

“Thank you,” she murmured next to his ear, “for everything you’ve done.”

As she pulled away, Ashe met her eyes with a bewildered yet slowly dawning delight. Her face glowed as red as an Imperial flag yet she was smiling. He took both her hands in his. Lifting them, he hesitated ever so briefly, then brought them to his lips. He let his kiss linger for several long moments. 

Ingrid could feel her heart thumping in her ears. 

“Thank you,” Ashe said, his breath warm against her fingers. “For always inspiring me to be a better Knight than the ones in the stories. Thank you for… supporting my dream beside me.”

Ingrid gave a fond laugh. “I should thank you for inspiring  _ me. _ Without you, back then.... I really might have given up on my own dream.”

“You wouldn’t have.” His eyes twinkled as he looked up and met hers again. “You always find a way.”

She blushed fiercely at the praise but it was a comforting feeling. She felt warm and cozy from the inside out. “We did it together, didn’t we?”

* * *

They spent two weeks altogether at Acis. Ingrid sent the uninjured soldiers ahead to the Kingdom to procure more supplies for the town. Though the people had been gracious and generous in their food and accommodations, they had little to share to begin with. Ingrid sent a letter to the King and Queen explaining their situation, and within a week a small caravan of food, potions, comforts, and supplies for their mounts arrived. The morale of the townsfolk and her remaining battalion greatly improved.

Ingrid had taken over Ashe’s care, allowing the doctor to return to his usual routine. Mercedes stayed for several days to oversee any emergencies and lingering care, then bid a tearful farewell to her friends. Before she left she sternly lectured Ingrid to not push herself too hard.

When Ashe had recovered enough to venture outside, true to his word, he and Ingrid visited Kyphon to thank the majestic creature. It brought Ingrid delight to see how Kyphon had bonded with Ashe, especially since her flying friend had never taken to any of her other allies. She still recalled a certain incident where she had found Sylvain apparently fleeing for his life from the stables while a very angry Kyphon charged after him…. Even Felix seemed to prickle her steed the wrong way, the two of them often ending up in bizarre staring contests, haughty and challenging expressions upon both their faces.

But with Ashe, her Pegasus had warmed up to him after only a few visits to the stables. It was said that Pegasi were highly intuitive and fickle creatures who rarely bonded with more than one person. So to see her two partners treat each other with such fondness and trust warmed her heart. Kyphon nuzzled Ashe and whinnied, and Ashe laughed and buried his face in the mount’s neck. 

Despite Ashe’s cheerfulness, Ingrid didn’t fail to notice the contortion of pain that flashed through his face whenever he tried to lift or reach with his left arm. A full recovery was still a long ways off, but it was an indescribable relief to finally be able to accompany him around town. 

* * *

At the end of two weeks, the doctor officially discharged Ashe from the infirmary. Today would be the last changing of his bandages.

Back in the infirmary for his final day, Ashe unlaced the front ties of his shirt and Ingrid helped him pull it over his head and off his arms. With practiced motions that had become routine, Ingrid perched on the bed next to him and unbound his bandages. The skin underneath had begun to chafe now that he was moving around more, leaving red ridges where the edges of the cloth had pressed.

The skin around his scars had almost completely healed, leaving only a faint indent and a glossy ridge of skin that stretched along the length of the lacerations. Ingrid marveled at how oddly smooth the raised skin was beneath her fingertip as she applied a thin layer of ointment. She went ahead and applied it to the irritations left behind as well, smoothing it over his ribs and down and along his shoulder. In a strange and shameful way she didn’t want to admit, she would miss this. Their closeness and shared warmth. The inherent vulnerability when there was nothing between them.

“You’ve come so far,” she said proudly, a fond smile on her face. “Just think, we’ll be back in the Capital at last, soon.”

“Ready for another assignment,” he laughed.

She brought a hand up to his face and cupped his cheek. For a moment nothing could break the adoring gaze they shared. His eyes were so warm and full of life. He reached up and pressed his hand against hers and leaned into her touch, closing his eyes with a happy sigh.

“Is it--um--wrong, that I’ll miss this?” his voice was hesitant.

Ingrid didn’t respond at first, simply savoring his warmth against her palm. 

“No,” she said at last. “I will too.”

He opened his eyes and met her unwavering gaze. Her heart was beating faster than normal and she couldn’t calm the foolish thing down. Clutching her hand tighter, he leaned forward slowly, and his eyes flicked down to her lips then back. A blush bloomed on his face, but she saw determination in his gaze.

She leaned forward to meet him, until their faces hovered inches from each other. 

“I…” Ashe swallowed, his voice low and hoarser than usual. After a recollecting pause, he touched his forehead to hers. “I love you, Ingrid.”

She hadn’t expected those words to feel so comforting, so enticing. Like warm honey by the hearth on a cold winter’s night, they were so delightfully sweet she never wanted to lose their flavor.

She laughed quietly and breathlessly, her breath mingling with his. “I love you too, Ashe.”

She lifted her face up to press her lips against his. They were both inexperienced, but it didn’t matter. A thousand Slitherers couldn’t dull the joy from this moment. He met her kiss with equal fervor, moving his lips against hers with a fumbling passion that made her heart flutter like Pegasus’ wings. Lacing their fingers together, they basked in the glow of each other’s warmth.

She would savor the taste of this moment long after it had faded. She was strong enough to burn brightly on her own, as was Ashe. But together, their courage and devotion was an inextinguishable radiance. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END! I have thoroughly enjoyed this journey with Ashe and Ingrid, and I hope you have as well. I've tried to portray them thoughtfully and faithfully, while still exploring how I personally envision their character growth. I hope they've resonated with you as well. Thank you for your comments, your views, your kudos, and your time. :)
> 
> My idea for this came from wanting to explore an inverted "damsel in distress" trope. Ashe is such a cinnamon bun, while Ingrid stands out as a shining knight, I couldn't help but want to write out the idea between them. So if Ashe seems unusually helpless or cloyingly sweet, I admit it's a bit of trope thrown in there. That said, I wanted to make sure it wasn't a case of "they fall in love and complete each other". Ingrid is a solid character, so I didn't want to diminish her individual strength. Instead I wanted to portray two devoted Knights who realize that yes, they are absolutely capable individually, but combined their strengths and weakness complement each other both on and off the battlefield. 
> 
> (also kudos to anyone who recognized the easter egg name of Acis << )

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! To be honest I'm not sure how many people will join me on this four-part ride, but it's been an exhilarating journey. I love Ashe and Ingrid, individually and paired, and I wanted to dedicate a story to them since they seem like an underappreciated pairing. I've never written a fic quite this long, so I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Comments, thoughts, and feedback are deeply appreciated and keep me inspired. 
> 
> Chapters will be published once weekly. :)


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